


Confusion

by spacestationtrustfund



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacestationtrustfund/pseuds/spacestationtrustfund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas has always thought Gally hates him - after all, he's always making a fool of himself whenever Gally's around. But when Thomas needs a date for a party on New Year's eve, his friends decide he and Gally would be the perfect couple. As if this isn't enough, Thomas has to deal with his two best friends Minho and Newt being ridiculously in love with each other, his twin sister Teresa being far more popular than he'll ever be, and the fact that college has classes the last week of the year. As time runs out for finding a date, Thomas has to decide what he really wants, and how he's going to deal with it when it doesn't end up the way he planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

**From** : Teresa  
hey Tom you’re coming to Brenda’s new year’s party rite?

 **From** : Thomas  
Ugh idk I have a chem paper due on wednesday :(((

 **From** : Teresa  
u mean “yes, sis, I’m coming”

 **From** : Thomas  
okay I’ll come but is it w/ a date?

 **From** : Teresa  
yes so bring sonya or someone

 **From** : Thomas  
ugh no I’m not into girls :/

 **From** : Thomas  
I will find someone else

 **From** : Teresa  
ok but its this weekend so make sure u do quick thx love u bye

Thomas drops the phone onto his bed with a noise he can only describe as the love child of a moan and a sigh. He wanders into the kitchen, where Minho is seated at the rickety table doing his biology homework. Minho doesn’t look up when Thomas enters, but nods in the general direction of the refrigerator. “There’s leftover pasta in there if you want some.”

“You’re an awesome room mate,” Thomas says, pulling open the fridge door and finding the container of pasta (which Minho has helpfully labelled “pasta: for eating”), just as Minho’s phone rings.

“I know. Hold on, dude, I have to get this”—and so Thomas sits down across from Minho with his food, and listens to Minho’s conversation. “Hi, yes it’s me . . . No, Brenda? . . . Okay . . . Yeah . . . Of course, what did you think? . . . I don’t know, I’ll ask . . . I’ll tell him . . . Me too . . . Bye.” He hangs up and now he looks at Thomas, running his fingers through his hair and making it stick up wildly. “Newt says hi and wants to know if you’re going to the New Year’s party at Brenda’s this weekend.”

Thomas stops eating his cold pasta. “I dunno. Teresa already texted me and I said I would, but I’d need a date and so I don’t know—”

Minho slams his palm down on the table. “That does it! Dude, if your superhot sister says you’re going, then you’re sure as shit going to this party.”

Thomas frowns at Minho. “How would you know if Teresa’s hot?” he says petulantly, mostly for the sake of arguing with Minho, because he already knows Teresa got the good genes. “You’re _gay_.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m _blind_ ,” Minho scoffs, nearly falling off his chair as he attempts to retrieve his pencil. “Your sister is hot. Brenda is hot. Newt is also hot. You’re—”

“Adorable?” Thomas suggest halfheartedly.

“A dork,” Minho finishes. He finally retrieves his pencil and points it at Thomas. “You’re going.”

“I need a date,” Thomas says. “Teresa said it was a date-only party—hey, are you going with anyone?”

“Newt. Duh. That’s why he called. Also you don’t need a real date. The kiss thing at midnight isn’t mandatory. Just ask someone like you who can’t go otherwise and go as friends. It’s no big deal, dude.” Minho returns to his homework as though Thomas has disappeared. And maybe it isn’t a big deal for him, but it is for Thomas—but he has a chem paper due on Wednesday and it’s already Monday night, he remembers suddenly. Thomas pushes the idea of getting a date to the party to the back of his mind. For now, it can wait.


	2. Tuesday

Thomas grabs his chemistry textbook and stuffs it haphazardly into his backpack as he runs out of the classroom; he’s promised to help Minho study chemistry during lunch, but he still has biology to get through. Why do there have to be classes the week of New Year’s? he thinks grumpily as he sprints down the corridor, not paying the least attention to where he’s going and slamming right into someone as a result. His books go flying, and Thomas stumbles backwards, his glasses falling to the floor. He looks up at the person he’s just ploughed into, and although his vision is fuzzy without his glasses, he’d recognise those eyebrows anywhere. Oh shit, Thomas thinks, because he can’t really think of anyone worse to have bumped into so literally.

“Are you okay?” Gally asks, and Thomas is mortally embarrassed, and also late for biology. He stammers a hasty “I’m fine” as he scrambles to pick up his books and jams his glasses back onto his head. The world comes into focus so rapidly it’s disorienting. Thomas blinks.

“I’m really sorry,” he gasps. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, and also thinking about this party at Brenda’s this weekend, and also I need a date to go but I don’t have one so I’m kind of very distracted”—and now he’s babbling, because Gally is looking at his in a slightly bemused way, and it hits Thomas that Gally is rather attractive. Bemused might not be the best adjective, Thomas realises, amused is better. Gally’s a year older than Thomas, some sort of science major, and Thomas has always gotten the impression that Gally hates him for some reason. He certainly has a way of making Thomas feel like he’s a little kid who can’t do anything right.

Gally puts his hands in his pockets and studies Thomas. “You’re going to Brenda’s party too?” he asks calmly, and Thomas doesn’t understand at first, but then he blinks and starts stammering again.

“Oh, yes—I don’t have a date, but I think—I—oh, shit!” he yelps, suddenly remembering that the only reason he’s talking to Gally is because he was late for his next class, and before Gally can say anything else Thomas has already scampered away.

 _Great_. Now Gally must think he’s even weirder.

 

“So _do_ you want to ask Gally to the party?” Minho asks as he runs effortlessly, making Thomas feel impossibly inferior. He can barely keep up with Minho on their runs every morning, and now that Minho’s decided to spend the second half of their lunch break jogging around campus instead of studying, Thomas is less than thrilled.

“I don’t know,” Thomas huffs. “He probably thinks I’m a loser after today.” He winces at the memory, and Minho laughs, turning around and running backwards so that he can face Thomas while they talk like a total show-off.

“Then you need to go to him and say, ‘Sorry for bumping into you in the hall and subsequently acting like a loser. Want to go to Brenda’s party together?’”

“Since when did you use words like ‘subsequently’?” Thomas asks, pointedly ignoring the rest of Minho’s idea.

“Hey, when you’re dating an English major, you pick up a lot of weird shit,” Minho replies, shrugging and dropping back so he’s running alongside Thomas. “You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff he says in bed.”

Thomas wrinkles his nose. “I do _not_ want to know that, Minho.”

“I never said you did, I said you wouldn’t beli—oh hey, dude, there’s your hallway date,” Minho says, nudging Thomas’s shoulder with his own. Thomas looks over and yep, it’s Gally, leaning against a tree and reading a book. “He’s reading,” Minho says quite loudly. “Isn’t that just great—you love reading. You two would be perfect, dude. You should ask him to Brenda’s party this weekend! I mean it.”

“ _Shut_ _up_ ,” Thomas hisses, trying to put his hand over Minho’s mouth so he’ll stop talking so blatantly. Gally looks up and sees them, and a scowl appears on his face. Thomas’s heart starts beating faster, from fear or excitement, he can’t tell which. He grabs Minho by the arm and starts pulling him away—he’s desperate to get away from Gally, who looks like he’ll murder someone if he has the opportunity, and Thomas has no desire to show up in a “ _College Student Found Dead in Woods_ ” headline. Minho’s smiling—actually smiling, damn him—and Thomas is certain his face is so red Gally can see it, even from several metres away.

In books, movies, or TV shows, Thomas knows, the scene stops right then: At the awkward moment, the kiss, the revelation, the shock, whatever it is. But what those oh-so-common forms of media don’t convey is the part that comes right after—the blushing uncontrollably, the pulling Minho away while Gally watches, the certain humiliation, the thoughts that he can’t stop invading his head. _That’s_ what they never tell you about, what they never show—but that’s what really happens.


	3. Wednesday

“I just need help,” Thomas says. “I don’t—hey, sis, are you taking anyone?”

Teresa’s sigh is the same over the phone as it is in real life. “Yes, I’m going with Aris Jones. You know who he is. He’s majoring in architecture, just like you.”

Thomas almost makes a face, then remembers Teresa can’t see him. “I think I know him. Wait, you’re dating _Aris_?”

“Aris is my best friend, Tom,” Teresa says evenly. Thomas knows she’s rolling her eyes.

“I don’t care,” he says, trying not to feel hurt. He’s perfectly aware that his twin sister has an active social life, especially compared to his. Thomas is certain also that he’s heard the name Aris before, but he can’t put a face to the name.

“Do you have anyone you’ve been thinking about asking?” Teresa says. “Because I have a couple girls—my friends Sonya, Harriet, Rachel—if you can’t find anyone.”

Thomas knows she’s only trying to help. “I’m not into girls.”

Teresa sighs again. “I know. I meant, to go as friends. Well, call me if you can’t find anyone else. Anyway . . . how’s your life been? I haven’t seen much of you lately. Minho’s been keeping you all to himself.”

“Fine; I’m passing all my classes, and Minho makes food. It always ends up weird, but edible. And Newt’s over a lot.” Thomas doesn’t mention that he usually goes to the library on the nights Newt visits, and stays there reading. The librarian doesn’t mind, and however much Minho and Newt protest, Thomas knows they’re glad to have some time to themselves. “Nothing’s really happened. I—oh, wait.” Thomas winces at the memory of colliding with Gally in the hallway. “I was late for biology yesterday, and I kind of . . . ran into Gally.”

“Ran into Gally?”

“Literally.” Thomas is impossibly glad Teresa can’t see the blush on his face. Of course, she’s perceptive enough that she’ll most likely pick up what his tone of voice so traitorously conveys. “He was really nice, and I just stood there babbling like an idiot until I remembered I was late and bolted.”

“Ouch,” Teresa says sympathetically.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I _wasn’t_ thinking. I was scared I’d say something inappropriate . . . Gally must think I’m some kind of stupid little kid now. And the worst part of it all is that I kind of _do_ find him attractive, you know? But, I don’t . . . _know_.”

Teresa hums thoughtfully. “I don’t see a reason for him to dislike you. You’re just clumsy, Tom. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But I made a fool of myself in front of a hot guy!” Thomas knows Teresa’s smiling on the other side of the line. “He probably thinks I’m a klutz. And then . . . when Minho and I were running . . . I saw him again, and Minho started talking loudly about how I should ask Gally to Brenda’s party, and I just . . . ran away.”

To Teresa’s credit, she doesn’t laugh. “Well, _do_ you want to ask him to the party?”

Thomas groans and shifts the phone to his other ear. “Teresa . . . I don’t know. I mean, I think I like him . . . I’m pretty sure I do. But asking him out? What if he says no?”

“Then I’ll run across campus and kick his ass, of course,” Teresa replies loyally, without a trace of doubt. “But if you want to, then go for it, Tom. You won’t get anywhere if you don’t take risks.”

“Okay,” Thomas sighs. “I’m just worried he’ll say no, and then what would I do?” He bites the skin on his finger while he waits for Teresa’s response.

Teresa sounds slightly dangerous when she next speaks. “Call me and I’ll kick his ass for you like I said already.”

Thomas smiles. “Thanks, sis.”

Behind him, Minho clears his throat. Thomas holds up a hand. “Teresa, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” Thomas hangs up and turns to Minho. “What is it?”

Minho is leaning against the door frame, his hands in his pockets. “Newt and I are going to rent a movie or something and hang out tonight.”

“Oh.” Thomas knows this is code for “watch two minutes then have sex all night,” but he appreciates Minho telling him so that at least he won’t worry. “You guys have fun then.”

“Don’t be such an idiot, Thomas. You’re coming too. We’re going to stop off at the store and get some snacks, then crash at Newt’s. Alby’s out tonight, so we’ll have the place to ourselves. Sound good?”

It sounds great, but for some reason Thomas hesitates. “I have homework,” he protests.

“No you don’t. You did it earlier.”

Thomas sighs. “Okay, but no fucking in front of me. Got it? And no porno movies like last time.”

Minho smirks. “No porn, onscreen or otherwise. We may make out, though. It’s only to be expected.”

“No. No making out,” Thomas says firmly. “Kissing, if it’s not . . .” He isn’t sure what adjective he wants to use. “Sexy,” he finishes lamely.

“Thomas. _Dude_. Everything I _do_ is sexy. And Newt, well,” and Minho winks as he drags Thomas by the arm out into his car.

Newt lives fairly close, and he’s waiting on the front steps of his dorm—unlike Thomas and Minho, Newt and Alby live in the school-provided dorms (“It’s better than paying rent to live in a bloody shithole”). Minho puts the car in park and practically runs over to Newt, and Thomas looks away as they start kissing. He doesn’t mind that his two friends are together, but Minho is fond of PDA, and Newt does whatever Minho wants most of the time. When they finally untangle themselves, a full three minutes have passed according to Thomas’s digital watch (a present from Minho).

Newt slides into the back seat as Minho takes the driver’s side. Thomas knows Newt doesn’t like to drive—he hurt his right leg a few years back playing football, and it’s never been the same since. Minho is a fairly reckless driver, but usually arrives in one piece. Thomas likes to think that Minho could actually, literally, physically be struck by lightning, and it wouldn’t faze him.

“So what movie are we watching?” Thomas asks as Minho pulls into the lot of the tiny corner store all the college students frequent. He holds the door for Newt, earning a dirty look from Minho.

“It’s a tossup between Harry Potter, Doctor Who, and Lord of the Rings,” Minho replies as he pointedly grabs the handle of the store’s door and ushers the other two inside.

“Doctor Who isn’t a movie, it’s a bloody television show,” Newt says as he leads the way towards the snack aisle.

Minho laughs and grabs Newt’s wrist, spinning him around. “My British boyfriend,” he murmurs, "and your _bloody_ accent . . .”

Thomas sighs. “List.”

Newt hands Thomas a piece of paper without looking, and Thomas starts off. It’s a routine, that Minho and Newt end up making out somewhere while Thomas gathers their groceries, and then Newt pays, and Minho drives. The list is short, only three items—chips, candy, sandwiches—printed in Newt’s careful handwriting.

Thomas gets the sandwiches, and grabs whatever candy he can find. This is for Minho, he’s sure, who is addicted to both sugar and caffeine. The sandwiches are certainly Newt’s idea, in an attempt to retain a fairly healthy diet. And they’re much better than Minho’s congealed pasta.

Thomas finds the chip aisle and goes to grab a bag when he drops the list; the scramble to pick it up only results in dropping more food items—why,  _why_ didn’t he think to bring a bag?—and Thomas is just starting to think it was a very bad idea to leave Minho and Newt when he slips and crashes into the shelf, sliding to the floor with a dazed moan. Thomas barely notices that someone’s helping him up, brushing him off and handing him his groceries, until his head clears and he gasps. It’s none other than Gally.

And why is it, Thomas allows himself a brief moment to silently scream, that he’s always meeting Gally when he’s clumsy and falling over? It doesn’t quite seem fair. He tries to say something—come one, Thomas, thank him, he thinks desperately—but what he blurts out is, “You must think I’m a total spaz.”

Gally tilts his head to one side, studying Thomas like he’s some interesting new experiment. “My room mate, Ben, is clumsy too. He stabbed himself with a syringe the other day. It’s no big deal.” Then, before Thomas can come up with a response, Gally leans a little closer, and Thomas holds his breath against his will. “So you’re going to Brenda’s party, huh?”

Thomas can’t believe it—it almost seems as if Gally is flirting with him, but that can’t be possible. He opens his mouth to reply when Minho appears out of nowhere, Newt by his side. “There you are, Thomas, we were looking for you everywhere! You can’t just wander off like that,” Minho scolds, grabbing Thomas by the shoulders and actually shaking him.

“He didn’t know where you were, Tommy,” Newt adds. Thomas wants to scream _It’s your fault_ , but stops himself. These are his friends. They worry about him. Newt pats him on the back. “Glad you’re not bloody dead, Tommy,” he says quietly.

“What took you so long, anyway?” Minho asks, then catches sight of Gally standing awkwardly to the side. “Oh—did we interrupt something?”

Furious, Thomas shakes his head. Newt grabs the situation mercifully quickly, and takes both Thomas and Minho by the elbows and leads them away. Thomas casts an apologetic look back over his shoulder, but Gally’s already turned away.

Newt pays, and it isn’t until they’re in the car that he starts yelling at Minho. “You arsehole! Couldn’t you see Tommy was having a bloody conversation? Did you really have to barge in like your his bloody mum?”

“I was _worried_ , Newt! Besides, _you_ let him wander off! Stop acting like it’s all _my_ fault.” Minho carelessly runs a red light, ignoring the winces from the other two.

“Seriously—did we bloody interrupt something, you asked? That’s goddamn obvious! Tommy here wanted to talk to Gally alone, without you being all bloody possessive as fuck!”

Actually, what Thomas wants is for them to stop arguing, but Minho and Newt are glaringly predictable. They flirt, they fight, and they fall in love all over again. (And then they fuck, but Thomas glosses over that step.) Their fights are explosive and vicious, their good days romantic and cliché in the flirtiest possible way. They’ll make up by the time they’re at Newt’s, then make out in the kitchen under the guise of preparing snacks while Thomas sets up the TV, then cuddle and probably fall asleep together on the couch. Thomas is strangely comforted by the idea. There’s something nice about a relationship that always follows the same patterns.

Sure enough, once Minho parks the car he and Newt are smiling at each other and Thomas decides to spare himself the view—watching Minho and Newt kiss is like porn with clothes on—and so he takes the food and looks through Newt’s and Alby’s movie collection. They have over a hundred, most of which Thomas has never heard of. He finds and old disc of Doctor Who and slides it into Newt’s TV just as his friends walk in, still holding hands.

“What did you pick?” Newt asks, and Thomas points to the screen—which is playing the theme—in response. Minho collapses on the couch and Newt sits next to him; Thomas settles into an armchair. For the duration of the episodes, he’ll put Gally out of his mind.

 

Newt falls asleep with his head on Minho’s lap after and hour or two. Thomas turns down the volume, and Minho looks at him with half a smile. “Poor guy. He must be really tired.” Thomas murmurs assent, watching the daleks on the screen. Minho gives it a minute before he speaks again. “Hey, sorry for the temporary freakout in the store. I was worried about you, dude. I know it was my fault for making out with Newt, but still. I _am_ sorry.”

“It’s no problem,” Thomas lies. He’s starting to feel sleepy as well, and the battles onscreen seem more relaxing than exciting.

“You should talk to Gally,” Minho suggest, stroking Newt’s hair. Newt stirs and whispers Minho’s name in his sleep. “Go to his place or something. Tell him. Ask him. Go all out.”

“Maybe.” Thomas goes ahead and turns off the television, plunging the room into darkness. He thinks about Minho’s idea. It could be a good one, if he doesn’t analyse it too much. Thomas yawns. “We should get some sleep.”

“I’ll take Newt to bed,” Minho whispers as he gently lifts Newt in his arms. “Sorry, but you’ve got the couch.” With a quiet laugh, he vanishes into the darker blur that Thomas guesses must be the hallway.

Thomas takes off his glasses and sets them carefully on the end table. He grabs a blanket from beside the TV and lies down on the couch, sighing as he curls up under the blanket. Maybe it’s just his exhausted brain speaking, but Thomas can imagine himself going to Gally’s room and talking to him, explaining why he’s been acting so awkward, awing Gally with his suave social skills, asking Gally to the party, and Gally accepting at once.

Definitely his exhausted brain, Thomas thinks as he closes his eyes. No one in a million years would anyone describe his social skills as “ _suave_.”


	4. Thursday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right people, this is the last day before the party! Wish Thomas luck!!

Minho wakes him up early the next morning by throwing pillows onto his face until Thomas yells, “I’m awake!”

“Good.” Minho smirks and tosses the last one. It hits Thomas in the chest and he shoves it away groggily, reaching for his glasses. “I need your help, dude,” Minho says. “Newt’s still sleeping and I wanna freak him out.”

Thomas yawns widely and sits up, his muscles aching from his uncomfortable night on the couch. “Okay. But next time I want a bed.”

Minho grins at him. “You wanna do a threesome? I don’t think Newt wants to share.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Thomas yawns again. “What are we gonna do?”

The look on Minho’s face is wicked. “He fell asleep to the lovely British show Doctor Who. He probably had dreams about it. We’re going to go in there and draw tally marks on his arms.”

“You’re evil,” Thomas says, but he gets up and takes the pen Minho gives him. They tiptoe into Newt’s room, where their friend is asleep in a tangle of blankets. Minho uncaps his pen and begins inscribing black lines on Newt’s face while Thomas does his arms. Minho steps back, satisfied, then leans in so he’s right next to Newt’s ear. As Thomas watches, Minho whispers “exterminate” in his best dalek voice.

Newt’s eyes flash open, but Minho is already standing back beside Thomas, a surprisingly convincing look of innocence on his face. Newt pushes his fists into his eyelids and yawns. Then he catches sight of his arms and his eyes widen. “Minho!”

Minho doesn’t move, but the heaviness in his voice is masterly. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and Newt pushes himself up on his elbows. “What were you bloody thinking, Min?”

“It’s a long story,” Thomas mutters in spite of himself. Newt glares at them both.

“You’re terrible best mates. Terrible!”

“We try,” Minho says. “Sorry, but we should get back before Alby gets here and murders us both.” But Newt isn’t listening, he’s looking past them. “Newt?”

“It’d be weird, wouldn’t it,” Newt half whispers. “To lose your memory? To forget everything?”

“Yeah, it’d be weird,” Minho agrees, winking at Thomas. He kisses Newt briefly (“I love you, bye”), then leads Thomas to the car. It’s cold, and their breath forms small clouds as Minho tries to warm up the engine.

Once they’re safely inside their apartment, Minho sets about making breakfast while Thomas sits as the table and watches. Minho glances over at Thomas as he cracks eggs into a bowl. “If you’re gonna talk to Gally, Thomas, then eat quickly and go. There’s plenty of time before classes—why the fuck this college has classes the fucking day before New Year’s eve I dunno.”

“You’re Korean,” Thomas points out, disregarding Minho’s point. “Don’t you celebrate at a different time?”

“I’m Korean-American. Newt’s British, and he still celebrates with us.”

“Newt’s an exchange student,” Thomas says, ignoring the ridiculous logic.

“In a study-abroad programme that will never end,” Minho replies as he tosses cheese in with the eggs. “At least not until we’re done with college and can move some place of our own. I don’t even care where.”

Thomas leans forward until his elbows rest on the table, his chin in his hands. “Are you guys gonna get married?” He doesn’t even know where the question comes from.

Minho doesn’t turn to look at Thomas. “Yeah,” he finally says, and the quiet sadness of that one word makes Thomas flinch. Minho didn’t say “yes,” he said “yeah.” Thomas is sure there must be some significance about that choice. He just doesn’t know—and doesn’t want to think about it.

“Well, I’m . . . happy for you guys.” Thomas stands up and grabs his jacket. “I’m gonna eat when I get back. Wish me luck.” He takes his keys and leaves before Minho can say anything else.

It isn’t as if it’s really a surprise, Thomas reasons as he makes the drive to Gally’s. He’s guessed all along that Minho and Newt would be together forever. But the fact that they’ll always have each other hurts him a little bit. He loves Newt and Minho more than anyone else in the world, except Teresa and his little brother Chuck. But he knows he’s lost on the edges of their love for each other.

He stalls in the car once he arrives, telling himself he’s making sure which room is Gally’s, but suddenly he finds himself standing in front of a plain beige door, his hand raised to knock. Thomas’s heart is beating so terribly loud he thinks Gally must be able to hear it through the walls. Reminding himself to breathe, he taps his knuckles on the door.

There’s a moment’s pause, then a voice he doesn’t recognise and that certainly doesn’t belong to Gally calls out, “Who is it?”

Thomas swallows. “My name is Thomas.” It comes out as a squeak. “My name is Thomas,” he repeats, louder this time, hoping the tremor in his voice isn’t too obvious. “Is—is Gally here?”

The lock clicks and the door swings open, revealing a fairly tall guy with messy brownish hair and a scowl that could rival the one Gally’s been wearing the past few days. “Thomas, are ya? That nerdy kid Gally mentioned?”

“Um . . . yes. That would be me.” Thomas is torn between profound embarrassment that he’s been branded as a nerd and unbelievable happiness that at least Gally’s been thinking about him enough to mention him to this guy, who must be his room mate.

“Gally isn’t here. I’m Ben, by the way, engineering major,” the guy says, offering his hand, which Thomas shakes. There’s really nothing disagreeable about Ben—in fact, he reminds Thomas of Alby. “I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“Oh,” Thomas says, disappointed. “I’m Thomas, architect major. Tell Gally I stopped by, will you?” Ben nods, and Thomas starts walking back towards his car. He can’t decide whether he’s upset that Gally wasn’t there, or relieved that Gally wasn’t there. He’s both, Thomas thinks as he drives back to his and Minho’s apartment. His whole confusing tangle of thoughts and emotions is just that—a confusing tangle.

There’s an unfamiliar car in the driveway when Thomas pulls in, most likely one of Minho’s or Newt’s friends. They’re known each other for much longer than Thomas has known either of them—so much more time to grow close. As far as they’re concerned, he’s the newcomer to their group of friends.

Thomas pushes open the door and hears voices in the kitchen, punctuated by the sounds of someone moving dishes around. Thomas kicks off his shoes and starts towards the kitchen; the house smells like oatmeal. “Minho, you better not be cooking up the usual crap you make,” he calls, “I thought you made breakfast al—”

He stops abruptly when he walks into the room. Seated at the ancient table where Minho likes to do his homework are the unlikeliest two people Thomas could imagine together—Minho, who has a cup of coffee (why the oatmeal smell then? Thomas wonders), and Gally.

Minho stands up when Thomas enters the room. “I’ll leave you two alone to talk.” He winks so only Thomas can see him, then hurries away, like the traitor he is.

Thomas’s heart rate is increasing again, and he’s probably pale enough that Gally must wonder whether or not he’s all right. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out—great start, Thomas, he chastises himself—and to cover it up, Thomas grabs a chair perhaps a bit too eagerly and sits down, thankfully without tripping and humiliating himself in front of Gally once again. He wastes a moment of gaping like a fish, but Gally saves him my speaking. “So I know I’ve been a bit of an asshole to you these past few days . . . I had these classes I was kind of failing, so there was a lot of stress . . . It was nothing to do with you personally.”

“Oh.” Thomas blinks. “I could tutor you if you wanted help.” The words fall out of his mouth without warning; Gally looks startled and Thomas can’t help himself.

“Thanks,” Gally says, an obvious note of surprise playing in his voice. “That’s . . . kind of you to offer.” He looks down at the grain of the table, away from Thomas. “I also came to ask you—”

“Do you want to go to Brenda’s party with me?”

Thomas claps a hand over his mouth, mortified; he and Gally look equally surprised at what Thomas has just said. He quickly tries to reveal his original ulterior motives without revealing his other ulterior motives. “I mean . . . just as friends. I need a—a date—not that you’re my last resort”—Thomas winces at this and silently curses Minho—“and if you don’t that’s fine . . . but if you want to . . .” He’s already half hoping Gally will refuse—or maybe just disappear—so that Thomas doesn’t have to prolong the awkward situation.

“No, I wouldn’t mind going as friends,” Gally says quietly. “I mean, why not? And if people get the wrong idea . . . what’s the loss?”

Thomas’s eyes widen as Gally leans forward until his breath fogs the lenses of Thomas’s glasses. Thomas blinks, his mouth suddenly dry; all he can think of is the possibility that Gally is about to kiss him, and his whole body is buzzing with anticipation.

Then, from behind Thomas, someone clears his throat loudly.

“Excuse me, but only Newt and I are allowed to make out in the kitchen,” Minho says as he practically struts over to Thomas, ignoring Thomas’s muttered “and everywhere else” as Gally jumps out of his chair.

“I’ll—pick you up at eight thirty then,” he stammers; Minho raises his eyebrows sharply, but Thomas nods, feeling his face flush scarlet. Gally leaves a bit too hastily, and the door has barely shut before Minho turns on Thomas.

“You got him to take you? That’s great, man! Double date with me and Newt!”

“It’s just as friends,” Thomas begins, but he doesn’t even get the entire sentence out before Minho is shaking his head and pointing patronisingly (a feat only Minho could pull off) at Thomas.

“No. I know what _just_ _friends_ looks like. That right there was nothing for the sort. Dude, I’ve been dating Newt for maybe four years now? I know what _love_ looks like too. Thomas, I’m many things, but an idiot is not one of them.” Minho pauses dramatically and intentionally. “You, my friend, have a date. Don’t screw it up.”

***

Thomas manages to escape to his room and immediately calls Teresa, who picks up as Thomas exclaims, “Holy shit Teresa you won’t believe what happened! I actually asked out Gally—which was a stupid move on my part—but he said yes! Minho interrupted though, of course, but still!” Thomas takes a deep breath, and the air feels like helium. “Newt and Minho and Gally and I are apparently double dating; Minho said so—so, I dunno, if maybe you and that guy Aris . . . Well, if you can stand PDA . . . Minho and Newt, I mean . . .”

“Tom,” Teresa says, and Thomas knows she’s smiling, “I’m happy for you, I really am, but you need to calm down before you hyperventilate.” She laughs slightly. “I don’t have long to talk, I’m at Brenda’s planning the party, we don’t have classes today . . .”

Thomas frowns at this. “I thought you guys hated each other,” he says, and indeed he certainly remembers a semester or so of unexplainable antagonism between the two girls that Thomas was never privy to a reason as to why.

“We did. It was all a misunderstanding! She liked you, and I basically told her to fuck off. It was a while ago, Tom. We’re friends now.”

“If you say so.” Thomas can never keep up with his sister’s friendships, battles, romances, or even general situations. “I just wanted to call you and let you know. I’m totally stressed. I don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow night! And Teresa—what am I going to _wear_?”

Thomas can hear the smile in her voice again. “Ask Minho, I’m sure he’ll help. But for god’s sake, Tom, no plaid—you look like that kid from _Teen_ _Wolf_. And do something with your hair, I—okay, bye.” She hangs up abruptly, and Thomas falls back onto his bed, covering his face with his pillow to conceal the grin that he can’t make go away.

He still has an entire two days of classes to get through, Minho will definitely tease him incessantly, and Thomas doesn’t have a _clue_ what he’s going to wear. But he couldn’t be happier.


	5. Friday

“What d’you think?” Newt asks, holding up a shirt for Minho to examine. “Does the colour suit his hair? Or should we go for his eyes?”

“Like I give a shit, they’re both brown,” Minho replies. He pauses, then adds, “Go with the steel grey t-shirt, give him the black jeans, and brush his hair. It’ll do the whole  
I’m-a-nerd-but-I’m-cool look—the one you have.” He smirks at Newt flirtatiously, and Newt sighs, a blush creeping up on his face.

Thomas takes the clothes from Newt with a sigh and studies his two friends. Minho is wearing a long-sleeved walnut brown shirt with a collar, the colour accentuating his olive complexion. Newt has on a sky blue tee which makes his blond hair stand out. They both look wonderful, but after Thomas tries on Minho’s clothes and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he hesitates. The change of clothes _does_ make him look different—older, somehow.

Minho and Newt take up positions on his either side like bodyguards. “See, Tommy,” Newt says, “you look good.”

“Mostly because he’s borrowing my clothes,” Minho says under his breath as the doorbell rings loudly and Thomas’s heart almost leaps out of his chest.

“Yes, you’re bloody gorgeous too,” Newt replies as he goes to get the door. Thomas wills his heart to beat at a reasonably normal pace—it does no good if he passes out before he even sees Gally—and then oh shit, he’s walking through the door, and shaking hands with Newt, and nodding to Minho, and Thomas is staring openly. Gally isn’t dressed up, really, just normal—ordinary, simple, Newt would say, and Minho would call it boring—but to Thomas he’s perfect.

“Well, we should get going then,” Minho says, surreptitiously closing the door to the bedroom to conceal the mess within. He offers Newt his arm like an old fashioned gentleman. “May I have the honour?”

“Anytime,” Newt murmurs, and Thomas speaks up to prevent the situation from becoming too awkward—after all, Gally probably isn’t used to the antics of Minho and Newt.

“I’m ready,” he says, and they file out to their respective cars. Thomas looks warningly at Minho and Newt. “No making out in traffic, or you’ll cause an accident.”

“I make no promises,” Minho says lightly, opening Newt’s door. “We’ll see you there. Good luck.” He raises his eyebrows meaningfully at Thomas before getting into the driver’s seat.

Thomas looks up at Gally. “Your car or my car?” he asks; Gally pints to his, and Thomas slides into the shotgun seat.

It doesn’t take long for Thomas to realise the tension has only intensified—he tries not to make eye contact, instead glancing out the window. What if Gally’s now regretting his decision to go to the dance with Thomas? What is he doesn’t liked Thomas at all and it’s some sort of pity date arrangement? Thomas tries to think positively, but fails miserably, and the drive to Brenda’s passes in uneasy silence.

Once they get into the building (Brenda is on the second floor, and has a fairly large apartment, with plenty of room for everyone) Thomas has to stay close to Gally for fear of being separated by the crowd. There’s loud music, and flashing lights, and Thomas can tell he looks terrified to Gally. He presses up close to Gally under the pretence of looking around for his friends. He spots Minho and Newt, already carrying drinks, talking to Alby and some girls Thomas doesn’t recognise. Brenda is at the door greeting guests as they come in. There’s no sign of Teresa. A few minutes go by in taciturn awkwardness.

Thomas looks around again at the couples dancing, talking, or, in the case of Minho and Newt, kissing (and showing admirable restraint, Thomas thinks wryly). He wishes they wouldn’t, it feels like a standard with which he’ll have to compete, and he isn’t sure he wants to. He instead turns to Gally, who surprisingly is watching him with a crooked little smile that’s undeniably cute and doesn’t help Thomas in the least “What d’you think we should do?” he asks, trying to inject an air of casualness into his voice.

Gally raises his eyebrows, and Thomas has to fight back a laugh. “From what information I’ve gathered by observing the surroundings,” he says in a fake scientist voice, “I say we should probably dance.”

“Okay,” Thomas agrees, but he isn’t quite sure what that means, or what to do next—he remembers practising dance moves with Teresa when they were kids, her hands around his neck and his on her waist, but that doesn’t help much now. Gally’s so much taller than he is, so theoretically it would make sense for Thomas to take the position of Teresa, but what would Gally think—?

His dilemma is remedied abruptly when Gally grabs his hand and practically drags him out onto the dance floor without any warning. Thomas expects Gally to release his hand, then, but instead Gally takes Thomas’s other hand in his own. Thomas realises his palms are sweaty and probably disgusting, and he wants to wipe them off, but Gally doesn’t seem to want to let go, and Thomas isn’t complaining.

When the song ends, Thomas is actually starting to relax—they can dance, and there’s not been any pressure to kiss so far, he gets along well with Gally when there’s no talking, and he’s even starting to have some fun. So when Gally offers to go and get them drinks, Thomas boldly squeezes his hand before Gally disappears into the throng of people. (Okay, maybe that isn’t that big of a deal, Thomas thinks, but to him it is.) He notices Teresa standing next to some guy who must be Aris and heads in their direction, happy to tell Teresa that everything’s working out well.

Teresa introduces them—“Aris, this is my brother, Thomas; Tom, my boyfriend, Aris”—and asks Thomas how he’s doing. Thomas cheerfully reports that he and Gally are fine, and thanks for all her help and advice, because he’d be lost without her (“I know,” Teresa smirks at this, “most people would be”).

Aris is visibly annoyed as Thomas goes on abut Gally, so Thomas asks what’s wrong, because hey, he wants to get along with his sister’s boyfriend. Aris rolls his eyes. “Nothing. I just didn’t realise you were a fag like Minho, is all,” he says sharply.

Thomas stares at Aris, slightly confused—he thinks Aris just called him a faggot, and Minho as well—but Teresa understands, and she isn’t happy. “You asshole,” she says furiously. “You get rid of that homophobia or I swear to fucking god I’ll get rid of you. This is my fucking brother, you dickhead. You don’t talk shit about him.”

Her reaction is surprising and gratifying for Thomas, but the conversation isn’t over—Minho appears out of nowhere, holding Newt by the hand. “Someone say my name? Thomas, man, what’s wrong?”

Teresa cuts in. “Aris was insulting Tom for coming to the party with Gally,” she starts to say, but Minho interrupts.

“Oh, insulting my room mate, are you? Well, if you fuck with him, you fuck with me, and I’m not someone you want to fuck with.” The threat is obvious, and Thomas simultaneously wishes Minho were less belligerent and that Minho will never stop standing up for him.

“I wouldn’t fuck with either of you faggots,” Aris mutters, but Minho overhears. He grabs Aris by the collar and gets right in his face. Minho is several inches taller than Aris, and Thomas can see the muscles in his strong arms as he nearly lifts Aris off the ground. Aris shrinks away.

“Listen to me, asshat. You don’t mess with me, or Thomas here, or his sister, or my boyfriend. Stay clear of all of us—got it?” Minho releases Aris and brushes off his hands, throwing a casual arm around Newt, who sighs and leans into Minho’s shoulder. Aris flushes red, sputters incoherently for a few seconds, then turns and stalks off. Newt sighs again, opening his mouth to deliver a lecture, but Minho laughs. “I kinda wanna make out in front of him, just for the hell of it—not that that’s the only reason, sorry, I love you—oh, Thomas. Your date’s back.” He smiles wickedly, winks at Thomas, then disappears with Newt into the crowd, Teresa wandering after them.

Gally walks up with two cups of unidentifiable liquid in his hands. “Hey—what’s with the grin? You look pretty thrilled.”

Thomas realises he’s smiling so hard it hurts. “Nothing. I just have really awesome friends, that’s all.” At Gally’s soft and almost sad “oh,” Thomas adds, “Aris called us faggots and Minho and Teresa threatened to kick his ass for me.”

Gally frowns, his eyebrows slanting down dangerously. “Should I help?”

Thomas shakes his head. “No. I want to dance with you.” He takes the cups from Gally, sets them on a nearby table, and puts his hands on Gally’s shoulders, just as the music switches to a slow song, inexplicably convenient. Gally hesitates for only a split second, then wraps his hands around Thomas as well. Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas catches sight of Minho and Newt at the DJ’s table, giving him the double thumbs up. He smiles and rests his head on Gally’s chest, and they sway gently to the music.

The songs seem to last forever and yet not long enough, but there’s plenty of time for Thomas to get comfortable with the way Gally feels against him, his chin on the top of Thomas’s head, his arms around Thomas’s back, his breath stirring Thomas’s hair. For those few moments, Thomas is shatteringly happy.

Once the faster songs start up again (Minho and Newt having abandoned their brief career as DJs in favour if other activities Thomas doesn’t want to imagine) Thomas glances at his watch and receives a shock: it’s already almost ten. He’s been dancing with Gally for nearly two hours, considering they were early to the party.

Gally doesn’t let go of Thomas’s hand. “Do you want to take a break? I know the lights and music bother you.”

The fact that he noticed makes Thomas’s heart flutter. “I, um, okay. If you don’t mind.” Oh, Thomas, he scolds himself, that’s _not_ how you flirt.

“I don’t mind,” Gally replies, and they continue holding hands as they walk outside to where everyone’s cars are parked. Gally leads Thomas to a bench and they sit, looking up at the explosion of stars. The night air is cool but not cold, and the sky is crisp with an infinity of twinkling speck high above. They sit in silence for a while, but unlike the drive to Brenda’s, Thomas doesn’t find it awkward at all. It’s actually very comforting to hang out on a bench with Gally and watch the stars in the night sky.

And they talk. Thomas tells Gally about his classes, his friends, his family, his life. In return he learns about Gally: He lives on campus with Ben, he’s majoring in science, he has a summer job as a carpenter, he likes to read, he’s sorry about the whole mess after Thomas ran into him after class. They trade stories back and forth, and Thomas doesn’t think he’s told anyone so much about himself since he met Minho years ago in high school. When he eventually looks down at his watch he gasps—the tiny digital screen reads 11:49. It’s almost midnight. Thomas stands up abruptly, his panic returning in an instant. “Um, I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he lies, and practically runs all the way back inside and then subsequently (Minho would be proud, Thomas thinks) out onto the balcony. He leans over the railing, trying to reason with himself. He doesn’t have to kiss Gally. But that isn’t the problem any more. The issue is that he really, really wants to.

“Thomas?” says a girl’s voice behind him. Thomas turns around to see Brenda. She steps over to him and leans on the balcony as well. “Is everything okay?”

Thomas has never really been that close with Brenda, although he’s known her since he started college. She’s much more popular than he is, and they were never in the same classes. But he doesn’t dislike her. and if what Teresa told him is true, she knows now about his preference for guys. “I’m . . . I kind of have a problem.”

Brenda purses her lips, and Thomas notices she’s wearing a very pretty purple dress that matches her highlights. It doesn’t look nearly warm enough; she’s in fact rubbing her arms to keep away the cold, but goose bumps have appeared on her skin despite the effort. Thomas can’t help it: He feels sorry for her. why would the hostess of the party, the beautiful, popular queen bee, end up shivering alone on her own balcony as the clock ticks steadily down towards midnight on the last day of the year? Thomas is glad that Teresa has started hanging out with Brenda again: Teresa has a way of changing things for people—even Brenda, who is determinedly avoiding looking Thomas in the eye. “I probably won’t be able to help much, but I’m willing if you want to talk.”

Thomas kind of does want to talk—it’ll help, he’s sure, alleviate his wild nervousness—but he gets the impression Brenda isn’t going to start the sharing of secrets. “Okay. I came here with this guy” (she doesn’t flinch) “as friends, but I _think_ I like him—I’m pretty sure I do. And he’s been really nice, and all that, but at midnight I don’t want . . . I don’t want him to feel like he has to . . . I . . .”

“You don’t want him to feel like it’s a requirement to kiss you?” offers Brenda, without looking at Thomas; she instead shivers and pushes her long, dark hair out of her face. Her nails are the same colour as her dress. “Because everyone does it?”

“Yes . . . I mean, I actually do want to kiss him. But I also want it to be _real_ , you know? I’m worried I’ll tell him I like him—and he’ll say he just wants to be friends . . . or he isn’t really that into guys . . .”

“Unrequited love,” Brenda sighs, picking at a piece of railing with her fingernail; the polish chips off and spirals away into the darkness below. “Guess that’s better than no love at all.” She smiles at Thomas, and maybe it’s just the poor lighting, but he thinks he sees a tear in the corner of her eye when she blinks, dark against her eyeliner. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t be much help, but I can wish you luck, for what it’s worth. I hope it works out for you both.”

Thomas nods and looks down at his watch again. 11:57. “Oh, shit!” he gasps. “Sorry, Brenda—I gotta go!” Without waiting for a response, Thomas turns on his heel and dashes back inside.

He spots Gally right away and makes his way through the excited crowd, intending to come clean—if nothing else—but stops when be sees the look on Gally’s face as Gally sweeps him into a tight hug. “What’s wrong?” asks Thomas, thoroughly confused, “I told you I was just going to the bathroom!”

“I checked and you weren’t there,” Gally says, his words slightly muffled as he speaks into Thomas’s shirt. “I didn’t know where you were. I was worried about you, Thomas! You can’t just disappear like that and expect me to be fine.” Gally releases Thomas. “Don’t do that to me.”

“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” Thomas says, but he’s stopped paying attention to what he’s saying. Gally was worried about him—Gally cares about him, at least enough to worry. While this should make his predicament easier, it instead makes it worse.

Across the room, Minho turns on his phone and holds it up for everyone to see. “We’re gonna count down!” he shouts, and something cold trickles across Thomas’s skin. “All right, everyone . . . ten!”

Thomas freezes, but he isn’t cold; he’s glued to the spot, Gally right next to him, and he still can’t decide what he wants to do. He can imagine Gally’s reaction—good and bad—

“Nine!” Minho shouts, pulling Newt closer to him with his free arm, as if there was any doubt of what they’ll do when the hour strikes.

All around he sees couples eagerly waiting, Minho and Newt shamelessly grinning at each other with that melting look Thomas hopes he’ll never have on his own face.

“Eight!”

Thomas’s head is whirling—he wants to kiss Gally at the same time he doesn’t want to, and he has no idea what Gally wants; he hasn’t gathered the courage to look him in the eyes yet.

“Seven!”

Thomas is certain that if he kisses Gally, there’ll be no way to go back on it—after all, they were supposed to be going just as friends, but he’s certain now he likes Gally, and Gally’s been so nice and sweet and caring that Thomas knows it’s only a matter of if Gally likes him.

“Six!”

But what if he tries to kiss Gally and Gally rejects him? Thomas doesn’t know if he’d ever be able to live that down.

“Five!”

What was it Brenda said—‘unrequited love is better than no love at all’?

“Four!”

Teresa catches his eye across the room and smiles; Aris is nowhere in sight. Minho and Newt are barely inches away from one another, waiting. Gally is still standing next to him, inexplicably, unexplainably, bewilderingly.

“Three!”

And Thomas doesn’t know why, but somehow Brenda comes back into his mind. He wonders—perhaps stupidly—if she has anyone with her tonight, or if she’ll be left cleaning up after the party once the happy couples have all gone home, alone in the dark, taking care of a mess she didn’t make.

“Two!”

Thomas steels himself. He’ll do it—and count on his friends to help him out if it goes badly. After all, both Minho and Teresa have already volunteered their services . . .

“One!”

Thomas lifts his head and turns to Gally at the same time Gally leans down towards him; their mouths collide awkwardly, sloppily, eyes not entirely shut. A jolt of something like shock goes through Thomas—thinking about, and deciding to, kiss Gally is one thing, but actually kissing Gally is another entirely. Even if it’s not so perfect, and he pulls back uncertainly, suddenly worried he’s messed something up, ruined what would’ve been an otherwise good time, made a mistake. “Um, I didn’t . . .”

But before he can finish he’s cut of by Gally kissing him again, holding him in place with his hands on Thomas’s face, properly this time, leaving Thomas breathless and gasping. Someone—probably Minho—whistles loudly in the distance, and Thomas laughs giddily. It’s the best end to the year he could have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is not the end for Thomas and Gally -- I have an idea for an epilogue of sorts, so that's coming soon! R&R!


	6. Epilogue

 

“Thomas! Thomas!” Chuck’s high-pitched squeal of excitement penetrates even Thomas’s haze of nervousness, and he doesn’t try to stop the smile that leaps onto his face as he throws his arms around his younger brother. Chuck hugs Thomas tightly, then starts gushing about what he’s done to help prepare for the weekend trip home: He’s washed dishes, and cleaned his room, and fed the cats, and helped make dinner—“and,” Chuck says proudly, proffering a newly bandaged arm, “cut myself but I’m okay”—and now he’s been waiting for everyone to arrive, and Teresa’s been here since the morning, but not Minho or Newt, and is this Gally?

“Yeah—Gally, this is my baby brother, Chuck,” Thomas says, as Chuck protests—“I’m _not_ a baby”—and Gally holds out his hand to shake.

“Hello, Chuck,” he says, winking confidentially at him, “it’s nice to meet you—Thomas never mentioned how tall you were.”

Chuck draws himself up proudly. “I know! He’s such a meanie.” He pouts, then immediately brightens. “Thomas! I gotta show you what I got for my birthday!” He runs into the house, emerging moments later with a yellow and green NERF gun in his arms. “Isn’t it cool?” He fires a few rounds proudly.

“That’s a pretty dangerous weapon,” Gally chuckles, throwing a foam bullet at Chuck and hitting him lightly in this chest. “Hey, buddy, are Minho and Newt here?”

“No, but Teresa is!” says Chuck happily. “And mum and dad are making dinner. Gally, if you wanna see the house, Thomas can show you—I got his room ’cause he’s in college, and now I have two rooms, actually. . . .” His voice trails off as he runs happily into the house.

Thomas exchanges a smile with Gally, who’s laughing. “Your brother is awesome,” Gally says fervently.

“He’s cool,” Thomas acknowledges, “he’s adopted, you know—Teresa and I are twins, of course, and my parents wanted another kid after they learned we were both going to college halfway across the country.”

Thomas’s parents are indeed in the kitchen when he and Gally make their way in there; neither seems fazed at Gally’s appearance, and Thomas suspects that Teresa’s already warned them. “Chuck’s been dying to meet you!” says Thomas’s mother to Gally, who looks taken aback. “You two go on, we’ve got everything under control. Minho and Newt here yet?”

“No, but they’re always late, if Minho’s driving,” Thomas says. he’s reluctant to leave, and to be alone with Gally—although they are now officially together, but they haven’t spent much time alone since the night of the party, and whatever touches they’ve shared have been fleeting and awkward. Inviting Gally to dinner at Thomas’s parents’ house was Minho’s idea. But Gally places his fingers lightly on Thomas’s wrist, and without really knowing how it happens, Thomas finds himself leading the way up the stairs.

The door to his old room has been covered with stickers, and Thomas smiles as his childhood memories swirl up from the back of his head. Gally slips his hand into Thomas’s and squeezes reassuringly.

Thomas opens the door to the guest room, where rather makeshift beds have been prepared for him, Gally, and Minho and Newt. There’s a great view from the windows, and Thomas beckons Gally over; Gally puts his arm around Thomas’s waist and Thomas leans into his shoulder. It’s comfortable, but Thomas can’t relax.

Being with Gally isn’t easy for Thomas. It’s noting like Minho’s and Newt’s relationship is. It’s not even close. Thomas isn’t sure if he wants it to be like that, or if he just wants something concrete, definite, certain.

Thomas has been friends with Minho since ninth grade. It was, to say the least, and unusual friendship—the nerdy kid obsessed with architecture and social sciences, and the ridiculously popular jock who was barely passing his classes (except, oddly enough, maths). Newt came into the picture later when Thomas and Minho were sophomores, already planning to go to the same college. He’d been part of a study abroad programme, where students from the UK could visit the US for a semester or two, or vice versa. They’d first seen Newt on the first day of tenth grade, looking confused and sticking close to Alby, whose family was hosing him. Minho nudged Thomas and whispered, “ _He’s cute_.” Thomas nudged Minho back and replied, “Exchange student. _Talk_ to him.”

So Minho had, although his first attempts at flirting had been disastrous—he’d finally found out the exchange student’s name during lunch that same day. “Newt,” he said thoughtfully, trying out how the word sounded, “what kind of a name is Newt anyway?”

“It’s a bloody nickname,” Newt said, rolling his eyes. Thomas liked him already (anyone who could hold his own against Minho was impressive to Thomas). “As in, Isaac Newton.”

“Oh yeah, the physics guy,” Minho said knowingly. “The one who was brained by an apple. I read about him.”

It took a while for them to get together, needless to say, but Thomas knew it would last. Something about Newt balanced out Minho. So when the time came for Newt to return to Britain, he decided to stay and attend the very same college Minho and Alby (and Thomas) were planning on attending.

Thomas resented Newt for a brief while, for taking Minho away from him. But Newt was careful to remember that friendship was just as important as romance.

“You parents are cool,” Gally finally says. They’re both looking out the window—Thomas thinks he sees Minho’s car in the distance—but somehow he isn’t focusing on anything, and he doesn’t think Gally is either.

Thomas shrugs slightly. “They’re just parents,” he says dismissively. Gally makes a quiet noise in his throat that Thomas can feel more than hear, with his ear pressed up against Gally’s chest.

“I know, but they’re your parents—but they seem okay with me, with us, with everything,” Gally elaborates, but faintly Thomas hears a catch in his voice that makes something tighten in his stomach. It hits him again how much he cares for Gally. Maybe he won’t show his emotions in the same way Minho and Newt do, but he can do the best he can with who he is.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Thomas says, standing on his toes to kiss Gally on the cheek. “It means a lot to me.”

Gally raises his eyebrows, which dissolves any seriousness Thomas has been holding on to; he bites on his bottom lip to hold in a smirk as Gally moves his hand up to Thomas’s face, rubbing Thomas’s jaw with his thumb. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“It was Minho, really . . . but yeah. And sorry in advance for the stuff he’s gonna say when he and Newt get here,” adds Thomas, and Gally laughs.

“Minho’s a sassy shit,” says Gally as he touches his lips to Thomas’s temple. “And by the way, don’t apologise—I still like you, and I still will, even if Minho is an idiot.”

“Even if he makes out with Newt?” asks Thomas breathlessly. “He makes out with Newt a lot.”

“Then we’ll just have to do the same,” Gally murmurs.

“Make out with Newt?”

“You know what I meant,” says Gally roughly, then he’s kissing Thomas, who’s surprised at first, but then he practically melts into Gally’s arms, pressing their mouths together, pushing Gally back against the window. Gally laughs, his hands on Thomas’s back. “This is more what I meant,” he whispers, and Thomas can’t stop laughing, and he takes a step back to catch his breath.

_“Tom! Minho and Newt are here! Get your butt down these stairs right now!”_

It’s Teresa, of course, and Chuck must be down there with her, otherwise that sentence would’ve contained multiple curse words. Thomas blushes and straightens his glasses self-consciously, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels. Gally takes his hand again, and this time it feels familiar, comforting, safe.

Minho and Newt are entertaining Chuck, and Teresa is hurrying around periodically pausing to scold one or both of them for some new thing. Minho gets up from the floor—he’s been helping Chuck load his NERF gun—when Thomas and Gally come downstairs, a wry smile on his face. “Hey, man. Sorry we’re late—got a bit lost on the way here, and you know how Newt gets when he’s stressed.”

Thomas does know; he’s known both of them for long enough that he recognises their habits. “So, what—you had to stop to reassure him that you weren’t going to be late? How does that help?”

“That’s not exactly what I do to make Newt calm down,” mumbles Minho, grinning at Thomas, who knows Minho’s methods of calming down Newt all involve sex of some sort. “He was being a dick, so off course I had to suck him off, it’s—”

“Don’t curse in front of Chuckie, you twat,” Newt interrupts, “and for god’s sake, Min! Leave my sex life at least a bit private, will you?”

Teresa joins the small group gathered in the hall then, hands on her hips. “Dinner’s ready—Chuck, put that thing away before you kill someone—Minho, Newt, please control yourselves—Gally, be nice—and Tom, I thought I told you not to wear plaid?” Shaking her head disapprovingly, Teresa herds them all into the dining room.

Thomas sits with Minho on one side and Gally on the other Teresa directly across from him. She smiles slyly, crinkling her nose in the same way Thomas does. Sudden affection for them all surges through Thomas; he reaches over and takes Gally’s hand. It hits him again how lucky he is to have them, all of them—Teresa, Minho, Newt, Chuck, Gally—with him. Thomas knows the moment won’t last forever, but he can’t imagine a better way to spend the time he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAH this was so much fun to write! I don't usually write Thomally, so this was quite the adventure, but it was worth it :) Thanks and hugs to you lot who stuck with me all the way, you rock!
> 
> Cheers!  
> xo Mochi


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